


The Mask Crumbled

by untokki



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angst, Comfort From Family, Comfort/Angst, Depression, Drabble, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Therapy, Triggers, Wanting To Get Better, trigger warning, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-16 01:01:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21499258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/untokki/pseuds/untokki
Summary: Seto Kaiba wears a mask for the world to see. When the mask crumbles, another appears in its place. This time, though, it's not coming back.[TW: Self-Harm, Suicide, Depression]
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	The Mask Crumbled

**Author's Note:**

> This fic deals heavily with suicidal thoughts and self-harm. Please be wary if you may be triggered by these topics.

The water from the showerhead fell in fiery pellets against his back, attacking his pale skin and blotching it in unsightly red and pink hues. All the water fell down his lean body and whirled down the drain, washing away all the woes of the day. The slate colored tiles of the rather large shower did nothing to sooth the tingling still crawling around his shoulder blades, but Seto leaned against the wall nevertheless, a sharp breath leaving him at the sudden cold touch. He shivered, no longer in the spray of the all to hot stream of water. 

He took cold showers. The benefits of being in a freezing shower for fifteen minutes twice a day outweighed the warmth of a hot shower. He took cold showers even when it was freezing in the middle of winter, or when he had a headache that was starting to be an  _ everywhere _ -ache. Even so, he stood in the blistering hot shower, the steam overtaking the glass doors and the mirror in the joining area. He stood, and did nothing at all.

Seto’s eyes were unfocused, drifting between each perfectly cut tile on the shower floor to the metal slides of the door to the faucet spewing water down onto his sopping bangs. So many things ran through his head, but at the same time, nothing stayed long enough for him to actually  _ think _ about anything. His fingers were already becoming wrinkled beneath the constant water, but he couldn’t remember how long he had been standing in the shower. He also couldn’t remember when he began scratching so ferociously at his right inner wrist, or if it hurt that bad the last time he had done such a thing.

The man froze in place, his fingernails hovering above the raw and red skin of his wrist, and his mouth slightly ajar. Water fell gently from his bangs to the tip of his nose, and down over the hills of his lips. He wasn’t supposed to do this anymore. He had promised so many people that he  _ wouldn’t _ resort to it ever again. In an instant, the man turned on his heel without another thought and changed the water temperature, immediately cooling his flushed face. Gently, he rinsed his arm beneath the icy drizzle, rotating his wrist around and coating all the warm areas in a mist of cool water. It was the best he could do to make the swells and redness go down to just a shadow of what he had done. He knew, however, the morning would bring a gnarled wound in the center of his wrist, with raw skin just beginning its attempt to heal. In less than three days, he would have a scab blossoming there, and he would have to resist the urge to run his finger pad over it. 

Seto turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, grabbing the clean white towel that hung from the rack on the wall. He took the matching one beside it and patted his wet hair, bringing the same towel to pat at his wrist a few times before it began to sting. Then, he used the towel to wipe away the condensation on the mirror hanging over the vanity, finding his drooping blue eyes and frown staring back at him like a lost child. He almost wanted to laugh at the comparison, as he knew that was all he was. The big corporate man with fancy coats and people at his every beck and call was a mask on a little child who didn’t know how to take care of himself. That mask was crumbled, like an old clay figure, leaving nothing but a dusting of a facade. But, Seto knew the moment he walked out of the comfort of his home, the mask would reappear, as if it never broke in the first place. The newspaper articles loved the mask. The business partners loved the mask. The customers waiting for the next big product from KaibaCorp loved the mask.

Seto hated the mask. But, he hated the face that sat beneath it, too.

\---

“Man, you look like shit,” Joey commented when Seto sat down at the table, sitting across from the blond man and beside Yugi, as that was the only place he could squeeze into the booth. Six people  _ definitely  _ could hit in the horseshoe shaped seat, but it seemed no one cared enough to make the effort to squish together. Seto didn’t truly care, crossing one thigh over the other, but he still wished for some common courtesy. So much for him being welcomed into their little friend group.

“As if you’re a sight for sore eyes yourself,” Seto retorted, denying the menu that was passed to him. The others had already ordered, as their drinks were half empty, but their food had not yet arrived. Seto wasn’t hungry anyway. Plus, as he soon realized, he wasn’t in the best of moods. Sure, he was always a “glass half empty” type of guy, but the melancholy concept stuck in his mind like a railroad spike through the head. 

Phineas Gage had it easy.

Joey stuck his tongue out at him before reaching for his drink, missing his straw a couple of times before finally grabbing the white plastic with his teeth and taking a sip. Somehow, it annoyed Seto more than it would normally. He wanted to rip that straw out of the cup and throw it halfway across the restaurant. He also wanted to shove it down his own esophagus, but he pushed that intrusive thought further down in the depths of his brain.

“Are you going to eat anything, Kaiba? We can flag down the waiter, if you want,” Yugi piped up from beside him, smiling as always. No matter how long their rivalry had lasted, Seto had to admit he was just as weak to Yugi’s smiles as the rest of them were. He merely shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest, instinctively pulling the sleeves of his turtleneck down to completely cover his wrists. 

“You’re crazy for wearing an outfit like that in this weather,” Tristan commented, and it was with that statement that Seto glanced around the table. They were all dressed properly for the summer weather, with short sleeves or tank tops, and while Téa was the only one wearing shorts, the rest of them still looked comfortable. 

And then there was Seto. Black turtleneck, black form-fitting jeans, and black short harness boots. He definitely didn’t fit the summer aesthetic of his supposed friends. He shrugged his shoulders after a moment. “I feel fine in this.”

He knew he would be sweating buckets upon leaving the restaurant, but he wasn’t about to admit that to the band of geeks. Sure, they were all  _ friends _ now, but Seto still didn’t  _ do _ friends. He didn’t need to tell them every little thought he had.

Not that he told anyone the thoughts he had.

“Man, first you’re not gonna eat anything, now you just look like an emo kid. Way to be a mood-killer, Kaiba,” Joey remarked, already finished with his soda. He chewed the cubes of ice as if that was an enjoyable thing to do, but the grating noise made Seto’s heart rush for a moment. That sound was  _ irritating.  _ It was like anything Joey did sent him into sensory overload, and now, the mere gaze of the other’s sent an uncomfortable chill down the slender man’s body. He was lucky his bangs covered up his furrowed eyebrows.

While the others enjoy their rather unhealthy lunches, Seto sat with his arms still folded over his chest and a look on his face that was a rather common countenance on him. His friends were surely used to his blank and emotionless expressions, leaving Seto alone with his thoughts, as the rest of them didn’t dare bother the brunet when he had a face like that. 

He hated being left alone with his thoughts. 

He hated that his mind told him to just get up and leave without a word, to sit in his car with the air conditioner blasting. He also hated that it reminded him of a month ago, where he made a stupid decision to sit in the closed up garage with his car running, but immediately went back inside the house when he began feeling lightheaded. He realized he hated a lot of the things his mind supplied him.

“Take a fry at least, or somethin’, Kaiba. You’re looking worse and worse by the minute,” Joey said, snapping Seto out of his rather negative thoughts and back to the people surrounding him. The blond shoved his basket of fries across the table, his burger already gone and the pile of fried potatoes having diminished quite a bit from the first time Seto saw it. The small cups of ketchup and ranch dressing to the side of the fries also seemed to have depleted. He looked back at Joey’s face with a scowl. “What, not fancy enough for you?” the younger man questioned.

Seto only ever shared food with Mokuba, and even then, it was Mokuba eating majority of whatever it was after Seto took just a bite or two. He never had much of an appetite most days, anyway.

“No, I just don’t feel very hungry.”

His simple statement seemed to have gears turning in Joey and Yugi’s heads, as the other three seemed deep in conversation. Whatever it was the two were thinking, Seto didn’t like the knowing glance the two shared from across the table. He knew deep down that they realized something he never wanted them to know, but he kept his blank stare, and kept the mask from crumbling again.

\---

Seto had four business cards for therapists sitting in the holder on his desk, and occasionally he would look over them before putting them all back. He knew he needed help. He  _ knew _ it and he knew no matter how much he wanted help, he never called any one of them.

He didn’t know how he was supposed to live without the constant numb feeling of not wanting to live gnawing at his mind. He had fallen into such comfort with his discomfort that he didn’t know if he would be the same person anymore if he made the effort to get help. 

He knew bottling up every single problem would end up exploding right in his face. He kept his emotions under a bell jar, and the pressure built up over the many years of housing all those feelings. He knew that the moment he was to remove the jar, the build up would be the death of him. But, he thought a lot of things would be the death of him. None of them actually delivered.

“Are you busy right now, Seto?” he heard Mokuba’s voice ask, and he looked up from the blank document on his computer screen to see his younger brother at the door to his home office, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pulled in a thin line. That expression was normal on Seto’s face, but seeing it on Mokuba’s made sirens go off in the elder man’s head. “No, I’m not,” he said, closing the document and turning off the monitor to his desktop. He looked back at Mokuba, who had since shut the door and was making his way to one of the two chairs in front of Seto’s large L-shaped desk. “What’s wrong?” he asked the younger.

Mokuba looked up at him as if Seto was battered and bruised, the younger’s gray eyes moving from Seto’s own down his face, down his arms, and settling on his hands. The weight of his eyes made Seto place his hands in his lap, beneath the desk. “Are you feeling okay?”

He was used to the question, especially from Mokuba. He gave him a weak smile. “I’m fine. Just stressed, like always.”

“Joey said it’s definitely not just stress,” Mokuba stated, his mouth falling into a frown. “Your friends are so worried about you that they’re calling  _ me _ to talk about it, Seto.”

Oh, God. Seto sank back against his chair, keeping his eyes off of his brother. That was the opposite of what he wanted. Now, he was burdening other people. He wanted this battle to be fought alone, privately, without interference. He fought every battle alone and had won all of them. He wasn’t going to let other people help. He decided that long ago.

“Seto… I’m worried too. They said you never eat when you go out, and you haven’t been eating at home, either. And, you’ve been taking really long showers recently. Roland said you been cancelling meetings a lot, too, and…” Mokuba trailed off, his eyes falling away from Seto and instead settling on the hardwood flooring. The action made Seto immediately stand and walk around to the other side of the desk, dropping to one knee in front of his younger brother. He put a hand on his shoulder and tried to get him to make eye contact. “I don’t want you to leave, Seto,” he whispered, still keeping his gaze down.

Those words hit Seto like one truck after another. Mokuba knew exactly what was going on, no matter how hard Seto tried to hide it. The mask crumbled at that moment, leaving nothing but dust in its wake and shattering the ice that covered Seto from head to toe. He pulled Mokuba into his arms, causing the younger to shield his face in Seto’s chest and cry. Seto brushed down the wild hairs on Mokuba’s head and placed his lips against the top of his head, letting his own tears fall. When was the last time he cried? It didn’t matter anymore.

Seto didn’t dare show Mokuba his wrists, until Mokuba stopped crying and asked to see them himself. It was then that Seto pulled up his right sleeve and showed the red welts, where scabs had been pulled off and scratched over countless times. Discolorations from previous incidents laid on the sides of his arms, making the black-haired boy bite his lip. When Seto pulled his sleeve back down, he brought Mokuba back into his arms, combing his thin fingers through his brother’s hair. Neither of them had spoken for quite awhile, instead sitting in the silence and darkness of the office. Seto leaned against one of the armchairs, but they stayed on the ground. He felt horrible, but it wasn’t the same feelings that always plagued him. Having his little brother cry in his arms, the clock stating it was nearly four in the morning, Seto felt like the worst big brother and worst caretaker in the world.

Mokuba knew about every attempt. He knew about every empty pill bottle, every tug of rope, every car exhaust, and every dip in the bathtub. Even without words, Seto knew with unspoken certainty that his brother understood everything. And, he knew a fourteen year old boy should never have to deal with such a thing. Seto hoisted Mokuba up in his arms, holding him up beneath his thighs and letting his legs dangle, much like how he would carry him when Mokuba fell asleep on the couch as a kid, or in the backseat of the car. He carried him like that through the halls of the empty home and into the boy’s bedroom. He laid Mokuba down on his unmade bed and waited for the other to shift around on the mattress before Seto laid beside him. It was Seto’s silent way of telling him that he was going to make everything better, and they would do it together.

\---

Seto called and booked an appointment with a therapist the next morning, making sure that no news outlet or paparazzi would find out Seto Kaiba would be attending therapy sessions every Friday morning. He told Roland privately about what had happened the night before, drawing immediate concern from the man. He knew Seto had unresolved issues, but he never knew the extent of it. When he bowed, Seto forced him to stand up and gave the man a hug. It left the assistant surprised, but they both knew it was for the best not to talk about it any further. Seto left after telling him his Friday plans.

Seto personally drove Mokuba to school that morning, giving his brother a kiss on the forehead when he left the car, and watching as he ran up the steps to Domino High School in a uniform Seto still hated to remember. The sight of his old school led him to think about his friends, who, yes,  _ were his friends _ . He contemplated telling them all about what had happened, but shook his head. Those walls weren’t ready to come down yet.

But, someday, he would break down those walls himself. He wasn’t going to let them crumble and fall away on their own. That was the easy way out, and Seto Kaiba didn’t take the easy way out. He started the car and headed to the KaibaCorp building, and that morning, he didn’t long to be back in bed or hanging from the beams of the mansion. He longed to get better.

**Author's Note:**

> Depression affects people in all different ways, so just remember that some aspects may not be accurate to another person's depiction of such a topic. Much of this was written from personal experience.  
> I wrote this in one go as a sort of vent fic. Leave it to me to project on a fictional character as a form of venting, haha.
> 
> ** If you're struggling, remember that you are not alone, and there are people out there to help, no matter what you may be going through. And, if anyone needs it, there are [resources to help.](https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/)


End file.
